


FireDrabbles!

by FireDragon1321



Series: Drabble House [1]
Category: Duel Masters (Anime), Mon Colle Knights, Pocket Monsters | Pokemon - All Media Types, Pocket Monsters: Sword & Shield | Pokemon Sword & Shield Versions
Genre: Archive Warning Varies with Ficlet, I'm a Venty Venter- VENT!, Meta, Rating Varies with Ficlet, Tags Update With Fic, ventfic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-09
Updated: 2020-02-29
Packaged: 2021-02-27 12:14:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22186915
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FireDragon1321/pseuds/FireDragon1321
Summary: All my non-Those with Wings-related drabbles! This is the same as that one, but not in that AU. Rating goes from Gen to Mature. Rating, fandom and content warnings will be put before the story. Ratings and fandoms will also be found in chapter name.
Series: Drabble House [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1597084
Comments: 4
Kudos: 1





	1. To Combat A Queen (Pokemon, Gen)

**Author's Note:**

> So this is like my other drabble collection, just not set in its specific AU. There might be AU, though.  
> All copyrighted characters are not mine, yada yada.
> 
> Right off the bat, here’s a ventfic! Boom! Enjoy!
> 
> Rating- Gen  
> Fandom- Pokemon  
> Warnings for this Chapter- Ventfic (related to personal feelings regarding the Pokemon Sword and Shield expansion pack), meta, mild hypnosis, more "no beta we die like men" than usual because ventfic, spoilers for Pokemon Sword and Shield (base game and expansion)  
> (Also I know Calyrex is probably genderless but I used feminine pronouns anyway, don't sue me)

It was a Slowpoke- pink as pink could be- with a solid gold head.

Wooloo had never seen the likes of it before. Granted, Wooloo hadn’t seen many things before. She was a random Pokemon her Trainer caught long ago, who hadn’t gotten much time out of the PokeBall since. 

Today, though, her Trainer decided to camp, so their entire team was out. The only familiar one was Drizzile- evolved from the Sobble her Trainer used to catch her. The others were Yamper, Nickit, Rookiedee, and the strange Slowpoke. 

Wooloo had never seen a Slowpoke before. She didn’t know they could even live in Galar, or how she knew the name of this creature. She looked around. It was raining, and Drizzile was enjoying himself. He was king of the pack, and Wooloo feared him. Yamper, Nickit, and Rookiedee had already formed a clique. That only left Slowpoke to talk to.

As their Trainer threw a ball for Yamper to fetch, Wooloo rolled up to Slowpoke. The pink Pokemon was staring at the sky, the rain tainting its gold forehead. When it sensed Wooloo drawing near, it snapped away and looked straight at her with big eyes. She stopped in her tracks. How did it know she was there? Was it a Psychic Pokemon? No- Water and Psychic.

How did she know that?

“Did you ever realize,” the Slowpoke said in a masculine voice, “that our reality is infinitely malleable?”

Those were words even Wooloo didn’t know, and yet she somehow knew that they were in the vocabulary of Slowking- a creature she’d never seen- not Slowpoke.

“I’m sorry,” she said shyly. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“I don’t belong here,” Slowpoke said. “I wasn’t in Galar since its inception, like you were.”

“Then where did you come from?” Wooloo asked. “Another region? Did our Trainer trade for you?”

The Slowpoke just chuckled. “You could say that,” he replied. “He traded something for me- the purity and stability of this world.”

“The- I’m sorry, but I still don’t understand,” Wooloo said.

Slowpoke turned towards the sky. “It grows black,” he said.

“From the rain clouds, probably,” Wooloo pointed out.

“Something is coming,” Slowpoke warned. “Something beyond the Darkest Day.”

“What’s the Darkest Day?” Wooloo asked.

“That’s something for your Trainer to figure out,” Slowpoke replied with something like a shrug. “Now, run along, and forget about all of this. It’s better if you do.”

Wooloo was rightfully spooked by the conversation, and did just that, rolling up to her Trainer.  She nuzzled against their leg, finding the action oddly comforting despite never being let out of the ball before. The Darkest Day sounded scary. It was something she prayed would never come.

But time passed since that rainy day, and Wooloo found herself tossed into the PC storage system, along with dozens of other Pokemon. These were primarily great beasts- Flygon, Tyranitar, Steelix- all caught as trophies from the Wild Area. So Wooloo was alone. But she had more freedom to move around in digital space than she did in the PokeBall.

One day, she was meandering around a field made of grass, which was in turn made of data. Wooloo was rolling around peacefully when she heard a voice. It was a mechanical voice, probably female, and devoid of tone.

“Now updating the system,” it said. “Adding new Pokemon.”

“New Pokemon?” Wooloo asked.

She looked around, expecting a new trophy to materialize. But no new Pokemon came. Instead, information flooded into her mind. Somewhere in the distance, Tyranitar groaned in pain- so loud that she could hear it from where she stood. Groudon. Venusaur. Zapdos. What were these creatures? Ground-type, Grass and Poison, Electric and Flying. She suddenly knew everything about them.

All two hundred of them.

“But- but nothing like that can live in Galar- right?” Wooloo panted.

“No! Get out! Get out of my region! Get out of my head!” roared a voice like a thousand voices. “This is my region. You have no right being here!”

Wooloo knew this voice. It was Eternatus- the biggest, scariest Pokemon in the PC. She knew nothing about them except that they were like a god- a being that produced all the Dynamax Energy in Galar. She knew to stay out of their way. Even the trophies knew this simple fact. Yet- for the first time- Wooloo heard the great beast cry.

“She does not belong here,” Eternatus sobbed. “This region is mine. Mine, mine, mine!”

Wooloo was torn, not knowing what to do. Suddenly, a figure appeared in her mind- black, white and graceful. She was like a regal flower, a thing of true beauty. Calyrex was her name- a Psychic and Grass-type. She ruled Galar in times long past, and demanded that respect from all Pokemon.

“I will never bow to you!” Eternatus roared.

But they were alone. All around Wooloo, the trophy Pokemon muttered one word to each other. “Calyrex. Calyrex.” Over and over it was whispered, like a prayer. Whatever this creature was, she had come and taken their minds.

Yet, Wooloo could only see Eternatus- trash, abandoned, alone. They were no different than her.

As suicidal as it was, she found herself rolling up to the great beast’s side.

Eternatus stopped howling as soon as they noticed the ball of fluff tap against their scaly hide.

“You! You!” Eternatus growled.

“I just wanted to know if you were okay,” Wooloo said meekly.

There was a long moment of silence. The god and mortal looked at each other. Eternatus was clearly wondering what had possessed this insignificant Wooloo to approach them. But then, they bowed their great head so they could get a better look at Wooloo.

“I am not,” they said. “I must fight her and protect Galar.”

“Then why can’t we fight together?” Wooloo suggested.

Eternatus laughed. “A foolish thought!” they chortled.

“But don’t we stand a better chance together than we do alone?” Wooloo asked with a sob, recalling faint memories of her flock in the wild.

Eternatus said nothing for a long while, merely digesting the words of the smaller Pokemon. Finally, they said, “I suppose we do. But just remember- the Galar region is still mine!”

“Of- of course, Eternatus,” Wooloo said. “You just looked like you needed help. That’s all.”

“I don’t need help,” Eternatus insisted. “Company? Now that’s another thing.”

Wooloo smiled at her new, unlikely friend. Together, they sat and talked for a long while. Calyrex became worlds away from them. While the other Pokemon bowed to their new queen, Wooloo and Eternatus were untouched.

The terrible day Slowpoke had mentioned came. Wooloo knew it in her heart. But she knew that she wouldn’t have to live through it alone.


	2. The Clinic (Crossover, Teen)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rating- Teen  
> Fandom- Crossover (Mon Colle Knights, Duel Masters, Bakugan mention)  
> Warnings for this Chapter- Dystopian AU, Meta, partial transformation, identity loss/genericification, surgery/needles/medical elements, mild eyeball stuff, brainwashing, mild misogyny (which bites that character in the butt)
> 
> Notes- Was gonna make this its own story, but why not just throw it in the Drabble Sin Bin?  
> I saw this idea elsewhere (on a site I don’t feel comfortable linking to) in an interactive story and no-one did anything with it. Typical- those guys ignore anything fun or that requires extra thought! So I sat on it for about a year and just figured out how to use it.  
> (Here is what Mondo looks like- https://static.zerochan.net/Mon.Colle.Knights.full.2445705.jpg. I do not regret that I did this, because there’s no joy in this world like looking through fuzzy anime screencaps from 2000 and trying to find a clear, full-body shot of a character but instead finding a link to a Youtube video called “Mondo Ooya Rockna’s baby daddy”. No greater rapture exists in this or any other universe. /s)

The Clinic, as it was called, wasn’t a big building. It looked like any other building on the street in the bad part of town, although it was better maintained. The interior of the building looked more, well, clinical. Not a single wall wasn’t white. Not a single floor had a speck of dust on its tiled surface. It smelled vaguely of antiseptic, even in the hallways.

The Clinic was the type of business you didn’t know about except through word of mouth. They didn’t advertise their presence. Yet, they were still able to attract an unusual clientele- the forgotten characters of yesteryear. The Clinic didn’t ask for money for its services, and used shards as currency. Shards could be found everywhere, if one knew where to look, or what beasts to kill. 

The more shards you could find, the more of their services the Clinic opened up to you. Some could only scrape up twenty shards, which wasn’t enough to help them, but would get them at least something for their efforts. But one-hundred and fifty shards opened up the top shelf prize. 

This was what all these long-forgotten characters really wanted.

The Clinic specialized in changing characters to make them more marketable. Popular animation styles and character types faded with the wind, and- generally- the characters that didn’t keep up got wiped out. The Clinic offered a solution- to “recycle” those poor forgotten souls into a more modern form that would be better received and respected. This was the coveted grand prize, but not all characters could scoop up the requisite amount of shards.

Some, however, could.

One of these lucky few was one Mondo Ooya, who was currently seated in a clean but plain waiting room. He was not only able enough to get the shards, but get them quickly. The ability to merge his consciousness with that of a monster came in especially useful, allowing him to easily rob creatures of their hordes or even convince them to give him shards peacefully. It was a useful skill, but there was no guarantee he would keep it. The Clinic made it clear to any character who walked in the door that they would be remolded to suit a modern audience, and their current powers and personality traits could fall by the wayside. Even his name was not set in stone. Copyright and all that. 

This was written in many different variations on a ten-page contract that Mondo didn’t read after page two. With the bored placidity of someone accepting a terms of service agreement without paying attention to it, he signed his name on the dotted line. Someone counted the shards he brought to pay with, carried in two sagging, threadbare cloth bags. They took the contract and the shards, then left him alone in the room.

He’d been waiting for about an hour now, with no word from anyone as to what was going on.

Mondo would have stormed out from impatience, but he did pay and sign the contract, so he was stuck here. Besides, he had to do it. He was- like any other character who used the Clinic- forgotten and desperate. There had been zero updates for his entire series since 2001. He heard somewhere that his nemesis Count Collection’s twin lackeys were the mascots of some store somewhere, but he couldn’t verify it. But Rockna- his dear Rockna!- and himself? They were just discarded like last week’s garbage.

Despite all they suffered, Rockna told him not to go here. Mondo didn’t listen. This was for the best, anyway. He wanted to do this- not just for himself, but for her. He figured she’d be beautiful in any form, and tried to persuade her to join him, even though it would have cost an ungodly amount of shards to change them both. But she stood firm on her viewpoint, and he had to respect it.

Even with the copyright issue, he’d be allowed to at least remember her- right?

After an unknown amount of time staring at a broken clock on the opposite wall, a woman in a lab coat entered the room. She was pretty, probably Asian, and had long, black hair restrained in a ponytail. She wore an advanced, black smartwatch around her left wrist. Adjusting her glasses, she studied the clipboard in her hands, then looked up at Mondo.

“Well, you aren’t a hopeless case,” she finally said. “My name is Dr. Suzuki. Don’t bother asking my first name, like the last fool who came in. I won’t tell you, and you won’t remember.”

“Uh,” Mondo said as he rose. His limbs were stiff, and he carefully rubbed the life back into them. “I’m-”

“Mondo Ooya,” Dr. Suzuki interrupted.

“Hey! How’d you know that?” Mondo asked in genuine surprise.

“I know a fair bit about you,” Dr. Suzuki replied. “Come. Follow me.”

“Yes ma’m!” Mondo said energetically.

It was too much energy. He could tell by how the good doctor winced as she led him through a nearby door. The room they entered was small, and contained only two chairs. Dr. Suzuki motioned for Mondo to take one. As he sat, she continued speaking.

“There are three classes of characters that blow through here,” she explained. “Few know about Class One, but I might as well tell you, since you won’t remember this conversation. They’re characters who endure through time, who are sent here to be modified to keep their appeal. Of course, they are usually given the requisite payment by an outside party.”

Mondo crossed his arms in annoyance. “That’s no fair,” he said. “I had to work my butt off to get these shards!”

“Class Two,” Dr. Suzuki went on, “are characters who aren’t just here for minor cosmetic surgery. They are here because their franchise is doing a total reboot to keep up with the times. They usually end up totally different people, meant to fill similar roles. They are also given payment in advance, but they’re rare. The last one I operated on was that Bakugan boy, from about a year ago.”

“So that’s what happened to him,” Mondo mused. He wrinkled his nose in disgust. He knew what became of that boy, and hoped he didn’t end up like him.

“Most of our customers,” Dr. Suzuki said with a touch of darkness, “are like you. You are Class Three- a totally forgotten character looking for a second chance. Class Three characters lose their previous memories and personality in hopes of becoming something better.”

Mondo jumped at the statement. He briefly thought of Rockna. “Wait a minute!” he cried out. “I have a girl out there! Are you saying I’ll forget about her?”

“It was in the contract you signed, which I assume you didn’t read,” Dr. Suzuki explained with a sigh. “Your character type never reads anything.”

“I thought the contract sad there was only a chance I’d forget,” Mondo said sadly.

“That was for Class Two characters only,” Dr. Suzuki said.

“Look, it was a lot of legal mumbo-jumbo that gave me a headache,” Mondo explained, rubbing his temples. “You chose the smallest font in the world, too. Can you blame me for skimming it?”

“Hopeless, hopeless, hopeless,” Dr. Suzuki groaned. “Your character type is a pain to deal with. Luckily for you, there’s options.” Here, Dr. Suzuki removed two manilla folders from her clipboard and handed them to Mondo. “Option One is for a children’s show. The character type is very similar to yours. However, the show is by-the-book, and- chances are- you’ll be back here in a year or two. Option Two is for an older audience. It is more likely to succeed, but your current personality will be pulverized in the process of becoming its protagonist. Those folders contain everything you need to know. I’ll give you ten minutes to make your decision.”

“‘Kay,” Mondo said, nodding a bit more curtly than he intended as he took the folders.

Ten minutes wasn’t much time to make a life-changing decision. Still, Mondo carefully toggled both folders so they sat on his lap and flipped them open. Option One was indeed a kid’s show like the one he hailed from. There was a brief summary that said something about saving the world, but Mondo ignored it in favor of the character whose shoes he’d be filling. 

The boy named “Classified One” looked somewhat like Mondo did now in terms of age. But his proportions were more realistic, his skin lighter, his eyes smaller. The colors of his hair and clothing were as bright as could be, and hurt Mondo’s eyes a bit to look at. Despite these aesthetic changes, he looked too similar to Mondo as he was now, so he put the folder on the floor.

Moving on to Option Two, Mondo found that “Classified Two” was an ordinary young man sent to a fantasy world. He was a tall, plain teenager with short black hair and a taller body. On his face was a stern expression that could also be labeled “neutral”. He wore a basic, blue school uniform. Nothing about him stood out in any way.

“You said Option Two would be more popular, but I don’t understand,” Mondo said. “This guy looks boring.”

“Oh, you silly boy,” Dr. Suzuki said. “The ‘isekai’ genre is really in right now. No-one cares about the loser protagonist, but the fantastic cast around him. They’re there for the magic, sure, but they’re mostly there for the women. I’ve made some of them myself. They’re supposed to be beautiful, even if they only have one or two personality traits to speak of.”

Mondo blinked. He remembered how many girls he once flirted with, and how much that pissed Rockna off. Sure, he was a bit of a wannabe Casanova, but his heart belonged to her. Still, there was a feral, animalistic part of his brain that wanted in on the ladies from the “isekai” genre. 

But was that really enough to justify becoming this- person? There really wasn’t much to say about them, and Mondo came here looking for a fresh start with cartoon fans across the globe. Looking back to Option One, however, Mondo figured that he’d be right back where he started- just like Dr. Suzuki said. Classified One wasn’t radical enough to be that fresh start. 

Mondo was damned if he did, damned if he didn’t. But if he wanted to start over, he might as well turn it up to eleven. The women were just an added bonus. He gave Rockna a silent, sorry apology as he clenched the folder containing the information for Option Two.

“I want this one,” he said.

“I figured you would,” Dr. Suzuki said. Collecting Option One to peddle it off to some other poor sap, she added, “Come along. We’ll need to start the conversion process as soon as we can. There’s so much work to be done. That tan has to go, and don’t get me started on your eyes. They’re much too big. Your entire head will need an overhaul. But I’ve never failed a customer once, and I don’t intend to fail today.”

Dr. Suzuki led Mondo out of the small room and into a long hallway. Glass panels could be seen along the walls. Mondo stopped walking to curiously investigate them. He could see a large operating room. In the center of the room was a table, on which lay a familiar face.

“Shobu?” Mondo cried in surprise.

His head had been shaved, but Mondo could still recognize him. Shobu Kirifuda- forgotten hero of the Duel Spirits franchise- was the one who slipped Mondo the knowledge that the Clinic existed. He hadn’t been seen in a while. Mondo figured he already underwent the surgery, but it looked like his operation was just starting.

“Hey, that’s my friend down there!” Mondo cried out.

“Then I suggest you keep walking, so we can get to your own operation in a timely fashion,” Dr. Suzuki replied. “Unless you want to be scarred for life in your final moments.”

“I won’t remember this anyway,” Mondo insisted stubbornly.

“Fair point,” Dr. Suzuki said. She glanced down at her smartwatch. “Five minutes, and then we move on. Fair?”

“I guess,” Mondo replied sadly.

Mondo refocused his attention on Shobu. He was the only toon in the room. Many real people- their creators, their gods- were rushing to and fro, but it wasn’t a panicked kind of rush. They clearly did this many times before. Mondo noticed several electrodes planted on Shobu’s head. The wires were attached to a large machine with a thunderbolt on the side. His face was covered in a breathing mask. This mask contained a tube connected to a funnel, in which swirled a large amount of colorful liquid that looked like paint.

“What’s that?” Mondo asked, pointing to the funnel.

“The shards you collected won’t go to waste,” Dr. Suzuki said. “They have magical properties. We melt them down and use them to alter the properties of your brain. Well, with the aid of some good old fashioned electricity, of course. We use electric impulses to kill the neurons in your brain responsible for personality, emotion, and memories.”

“Isn’t that a lot of the brain?” Mondo asked worriedly.

“It is, but the shards take care of that,” Dr. Suzuki replied. “That liquid will be turned into a gas as it approaches the patient’s mouth. The gas facilitates the growth of new brain matter just as quickly as it is damaged. Of course, these new neurons will be to the specifications of your new self.”

As the good doctor spoke, the electrodes went off. Shobu received a mild shock. He cried out unconsciously, the cry muffled by the mask. Mondo backed away, biting at his nails as this continued to happen over and over. Meanwhile, the liquid flowed towards Shobu’s mouth, turning to gas inside the breathing mask. He inhaled it surprisingly desperately for an unconscious person, or perhaps Mondo made up that desperation out of his own mounting worry. Immediately, the pain seemed to subside, only for a new round of shocks to restart the process.

“The restructuring of the brain will take a few hours,” Dr. Suzuki said casually. “But he won’t remember it.”

A man in a white lab coat injected Shobu with a needle full of the rainbow fluid circulating through his body. It pierced his arm, which slowly began to grow like it was being pulled by taffy. Mondo backed away in horror. For a while, he couldn’t see Shobu’s face- another doctor was blocking it- but he could see his friend’s other arm receive its own injection. 

“The liquid made from the shards can also induce physical changes,” Dr. Suzuki said. “His bloodstream will be full of the stuff, but it’s nothing a blood transfusion won’t be able to fix. It hurts like hell, apparently, but anesthesia exists for a reason. He won’t feel a thing, and neither will you.”

Mondo fell to his knees in silence. The doctor blocking Shobu’s face moved away for a brief moment, and Mondo realized something stupidly mundane. Shobu always had very thick eyebrows, but they had been plucked. They looked less wild, and less like him. They were more normal now. No, that wasn’t the word. They were generic. They were a copy of Classified Two’s eyebrows. 

Another shock was delivered. Another needle entered Shobu’s cheek, which began to sag. Only once another shot was delivered did it morph into a more proper, adult shape. The needle was thrown away, and a new once prepared to attack the unconscious boy’s eyes. Of course they would. Their shape was out of style. That made it wrong. It was something to be corrected.

It did not make the situation less nauseating.

Mondo turned away seconds before the needle struck the area around Shobu’s eye and screamed without realizing it. He suddenly had a powerful urge to run away. He wanted to flee back to Rockna, fling himself at her feet, and apologize as many times as it took for her to understand that she was right and he was a bonehead. As he spun around on his heels to do just that, Dr. Suzuki shoved her clipboard under her left arm and seized his wrist.

“You signed a contract,” she said darkly. “Besides, five minutes have passed. I believe it’s your turn.”

“Well I changed my mind! Screw your contract!” Mondo howled.

Dr Suzuki sighed as the boy struggled to escape her firm grip. “This is why I shouldn’t have let you watch,” she said. “You always go mad when you watch. Fortunately, I’m prepared for any occasion.”

Mondo felt a pinprick in his arm and shouted. Dr. Suzuki was hiding a needle of her own the entire time, but this one made him feel tired. He closed his eyes despite himself, and struggled to escape. However, his entire body felt like gelatin. His thoughts were evaporating. It felt like death itself had come for him. In a way, it had.

“Good night,” Dr. Suzuki said, a million miles away.

Mondo swore that he saw Rockna’s face, and felt her arms around him. But that was only an illusion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I put this here as a kind of epilogue, since I felt the story itself ended at the right point. It’s here to read or not read at your leisure.
> 
> He woke in a white room. All he wore was a simple hospital gown. Why was he in a hospital? Was he sick? He blinked as a woman entered the room. Her expression was stern, but he remained calm. It wasn’t like he had many other feelings, anyway.  
> Unless his friends were also hurt.  
> "Who are you? Where are my friends?" he asked.  
> "Your friends are not here," the woman replied. "I see the surgery has been a success."  
> "Surgery?" he asked.  
> "Oh nothing," the woman said. "You just had some brain damage after getting hit by a truck, and we repaired it for you. Now rise. I can take you to your friends, if you feel up to it."  
> He was a little suspicious, but the suspicion was mild. All of his feelings were muted, but he didn’t care. He followed the woman, passing his reflection in the shiny metal door of his hospital room. He looked the same as always- just like any other Japanese high school student. In fact- as he followed the woman- he passed another such boy in the hall. He looked familiar, but he didn’t know why.  
> "Your friends are in here," the woman explained, pointing to a door at the end of the hall.  
> He took the doorknob and opened the door. Little did he know how much his life would change after he stepped though the doorway.


End file.
